Maid to Be Mine: A Regency Cinderella Story (9 page)

BOOK: Maid to Be Mine: A Regency Cinderella Story
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Very well...
my lady
.” Cynthia winced as she said it. She and Robert sidestepped Georgiana and continued their journey to the washroom. As soon as they were inside, she tossed the linens to the floor and unleashed a grunt of frustration. “Grr! I
hate
her!”

Robert simply nodded. It didn't seem like the appropriate time for a witty retort.


I always hated her,” Cynthia's tirade continued, “but now I hate her
even more
! How can they do this to me?! She and my stepmother are heartless creatures! It's like they have no souls whatsoever! And if they
do
have souls, I shudder to think of where they'll end up in the afterlife! They won't be reunited with my father, I can assure you that!”


I'll handle the linens, Cynthia,” Robert said. “You can deal with the witch.”


Thank you, Robert.”


And why are you thanking me? Believe me, I would much rather tackle the linens than have to deal with the likes of her! I don't envy you, that's for certain.”

Before leaving the washroom, Cynthia smiled at Robert, and the gesture was warmly returned. As she headed back to Georgiana, her stomach was gripped with fear. She could only imagine what sort of iniquitous labor her stepsister had in store for her.


CYNTHIA!” Georgiana was hovering by her bedroom door, eagerly awaiting the return of her unwilling maidservant. “Cynthia,
hurry
! I don't have all day!”

Cynthia sprinted down the hall and entered Georgiana's room. As soon as they were inside, Georgiana grabbed a hairbrush from her dresser and sunk into a chair. Holding the brush over her shoulder, Georgiana demanded, “Brush my hair!”


Very well.” Cynthia stood behind the chair and started sifting the brush through Georgiana's dark tresses. She gripped the handle tightly, resisting the temptation to clobber the girl.


I enjoy having my hair brushed,” Georgiana said. “I don't have a maid of my own, so this is a rare luxury.”

Cynthia inhaled, but she didn't reply. Brushing her stepsister's hair wasn't the most painful task in the world, but she had a feeling Georgiana wasn't finished with her.


What do you think of my hair, Cynthia?” Georgiana asked.

Cynthia raised a curious brow. Why did Georgiana think it was an appropriate time for a sisterly coze? “I think you have beautiful hair,” she said. And it was true enough. Georgiana's hair was such a dark brown, it was almost black, and it gave her an exotic allure.


Well... I've always envied your hair, to be honest!” Georgiana said. “I've always wished I had golden hair. Hair that is light and bright is more likely to catch a gentleman's eye. They're a bit like dogs, really. They like flashy things.”


Mmm.” Cynthia didn't quite know how to reply, so she just answered with a grunt.


I must confess... I've always been a bit jealous of you,” Georgiana said. “Did you know that?”

Cynthia kept moving the brush through her stepsister's hair, as gently as she could. “No. I was not aware.”


Well, it's true. As much as it pains me to admit it, you really are, well... you are basically the epitome of beauty. If you had been around, I am sure Lord Charmington wouldn't have taken an interest in me.”


And... do you think he
has
taken an interest in you?” Cynthia asked.


Oh, I believe he has! We took a turn around the garden, and it was a most pleasant experience! He complimented me several times, and we shared many common interests. I think I can safely call him one of my suitors.”

Your
only
suitor is more like it,
Cynthia thought. She couldn't remember a time when Georgiana had actually been courted. As overbearing as she was, Georgiana had a tendency to frighten men away.


You know,” Georgiana went on, “I've often wished I could have been a better sister to you. Are you surprised?”


I... am.”
Surprised
didn't even begin to describe it.
Shocked, astounded
and
gobsmacked
would have been more appropriate. For a moment, Cynthia almost felt guilty for thinking her stepsister was doomed for eternal damnation.

And then she said, “But really, Cynthia, it is better this way. I can see why Mama wanted you to be a maid. This way, we will never be at odds with each other. I won't have to worry about you stealing my suitors, because Lord Charmington will never spare you a second glance!”

Cynthia lowered the hairbrush and clenched her fists.
If only you knew
, she thought to herself.
He
has
given me a second glance!


And you'll probably end up marrying a servant! Oh my... that's a novel thought!” Georgiana said with a giggle. “You'll probably marry someone like that manservant I encountered in the hallway. What's his name?”


Robert,” Cynthia answered dryly.


Yes, Robert. You'll probably marry someone like him. And I suppose he
is
handsome, in a rustic and provincial sort of way... not that I was paying much attention to him, mind you. Men like him are below my notice, and well... he's nothing compared to Lord Charmington. You should really see him, Cynthia. He is the handsomest man I have ever seen... nay, he must
surely
be the handsomest man in the whole, entire world!” Georgiana turned around and wrenched the hairbrush from her stepsister's hand. “Now, enough with the hair brushing... this is getting tedious. There are other tasks that require your attention.”


And what might that be?”


My pelisse.” Georgiana rose from the chair and went to her wardrobe, from which she extracted a long, fur-trimmed coat. “The weather is getting cooler, and I require something warmer. However, there is a slight hole in the sleeve, and I need you to mend it for me.”


Of course.” Cynthia took the pelisse and tucked it under her arm. “Is there anything else you need?”


As a matter of fact, there is.” Georgiana pointed at an ornate porcelain container at the far end of the room. “I need you to dump my chamber pot.”


Are you serious?!”


Oh yes. I'm quite serious. Why wouldn't I be?” Georgiana sat on the end of her bed and crossed her arms. “Now, if you don't mind, I need my afternoon rest. If you would kindly remove yourself from my presence, I would be much obliged.”


Very well...” As she went to collect the chamber pot, Cynthia was sneering.


Very well,
my lady
,” Georgiana corrected her with a grin. “Honestly, Cynthia, you need to show me more respect! If you don't, I will have no choice but to complain to Mama!”

Cynthia didn't give her the satisfaction of a
my lady
, nor did she give her a response. With the pelisse and chamber pot in hand, she hurried out of the room, eager to be rid of her wicked stepsister.

And when she was alone, she had to resist the temptation to dunk the pelisse
into
the chamber pot.

Chapter Ten


Your grandmother is ill.” As she delivered the news, Greta Albray, the dowager Countess of Charmington, lowered her needlepoint. Her son was sitting in the settee across from her, gazing out the window. He appeared to be deep in thought, and he had a habit of ignoring her, but she knew the news about his beloved grandmother would get his attention.


Really? How ill?”


Very ill, I am afraid. I believe it might be inflammation of the lungs,” Greta reported. “As to whether she will live or not, it is really anyone's guess.”


She's a strong woman,” James said. “She's been through so much.”


True. She
is
frequently ill, as of late,” his mother agreed. “So... surely you must see the advantage of an expeditious marriage? Your grandmother would want to see you happy before she dies.”


Mother...” As of late, his bachelorhood seemed to be his mother's primary concern. “Please don't talk as if her death is imminent. It's so... bleak.”


But her death
is
imminent. We are
all
dying,” Greta pointed out. “And your grandmother is very old. It is really only a matter of time.”

James fumbled with the book on his lap, but he didn't have the heart to read it, not when his mother was filling his head with doom and gloom. “What a terrible thing to say!”


It may be terrible, but it is true, James. You know it is!” Greta lifted her needlepoint and resumed her task. “Honestly, I thought you would be married by the time you were thirty.”


I'm not thirty,” he pointed out, “...yet.”


True, but you are nine and twenty. If marriage before thirty is your goal, you have only seven months remaining.”


It isn't my goal.”


But it
should
be your goal!” his mother insisted. “If not for my sake, then for your poor grandmother's sake. Nothing would make her happier.”


Nothing would make
you
happier!” James countered. “You want grandchildren.”


True. And you need an heir!”


You make it sound as if I'm running out of time... as if I will be beyond hope within a year!”


You should be glad you're not a woman, because at your age, you
would
be beyond hope!”


Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I
should
be looking for a wife.” With a sigh, James turned his attention back to the window. As he stared at the glass, an image of an enchanting blonde angel flashed before his mind's eye. “You know, Mother... I met a woman.”

Once again, she cast her needlepoint aside. “Really!? When?! Who is she? Where did you meet her?”


At Montforth Hall,” James said, though he immediately regretted his confession. If his mother happened to meet the women of Montforth Hall, she would assume he was talking about one of the ladies of the house—Georgiana and Edith. However, the woman of his dreams was a maid, and he knew his mother would never accept that fact. “She was a rare beauty.”


Wonderful! Then you must call on her tomorrow! And bring flowers, James. She won't be able to resist a handsome man bearing gifts!”

James closed his eyes, and a sinister smile curled across his lips. What would the maid think if he handed her a flower? How would she react? Would she accept it, or would she think his behavior was inappropriate? Would she let herself fall for him, or would she push him away?

When James opened his eyes, his gaze was fixed on the window. The lack of sunshine did little to bolster his hopes.

As he stared out the window, the crystalline lattice of a single snowflake fluttered near the pane.

* * *


Cynthia, here.”

That was the only warning Robert gave her before he tossed the onion in her direction. She tried to catch it, but it ended up bouncing off her shoulder and tumbling to the floor.

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